Wouldn't It Be Nice
by Dorminchu
Summary: Alone on the deserted beaches of Scarif, there's not much time for caution. Cassian and Jyn make the most of their situation.


_a/n: This didn't need to happen, if I'm going to be honest with you; the film's conclusion was more than fine, for what it was. Yet here we are._

 _edit, 1/19/17: I expounded on quite a few details here and there, and changed the title of this to a DIFFERENT Beach Boys song:_ Wouldn't It Be Nice _instead of_ Deirdre _. And surprise, it_ still _hurts. :(_

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"—it's just like falling asleep, after a long day," Jyn said, unprompted, gazing glassy-eyed across the water.

"Is that so?" Cassian replied, leaning into her shoulder.

She frowned. "Well, I can't speak from experience."

"Don't worry," he reassured her. "I won't leave you by yourself." Jyn glanced over as if waiting for him to continue the thought, but Cassian only smiled, interlocking their fingers. Jyn snorted, half-incredulous, half-touched.

Overhead the horizon was glowing, cloudless, a premature sunset. The wind was picking up, the trees swaying uneasily. The waves advanced and receded of their own accord. Apart from all of this, the quiet rumble engulfing Scarif's beach was not yet of concern.

Cassian paid it no mind.

He'd fallen into a dream, he was sure of it, as Jyn pushed him down upon the white sand where the distant, ever-present clamor of battle hardly reached them. Delicacy was foreign when administered by her hands, as she leant overhead and closed the distance between them, draping herself across his body in some final display of protection.

He wanted to laugh, because it was all so absurd, really, but it hurt to breathe.

"Jyn," he tried, but she kissed him quiet. Breaking away, he grunted: "Jyn, wait—"

"What," she said, without inflection.

He grasped her head, fingers tangling in her hair and resting against the curve of her throat. "This isn't—" _right_ , he wanted to say but stopped, because there was nothing left to lose, no one else but each other, so he settled instead for: "—this isn't going to work, if you don't let me get up."

"You're hurt. Let me take care of this." She spoke like he was being absurd, like this was nothing to get worked up about; it felt strange, trying to argue with her now, clinging to normality while the end drew closer and the sea lapped patiently at the shore.

 _There's never going to be a proper time_ hung in the air over their heads, unsaid but understood. Her hands shook slightly as she undressed and then helped him—only the essentials—and it felt a little more indecent this way, but Cassian couldn't bring himself to look away from her, even for a second. He wondered what it would be like to know this was not the last time they would see each other. He wondered if she'd ever done this before, or been kissed, or even entertained such thoughts—because there hadn't been time for that kind of triviality, not without sacrificing some focus he might put towards the Rebellion, but now—

There was so much he wanted to ask her.

"Jyn?"

She looked to him in a daze, perched on his chest with her pants pooling haphazardly around her knees, retaining her shirt, her skin glowing soft in the light. "What? Am I hurting you?"

Cassian swallowed dryly, his voice distant to his own ears. "No, but…" He nudged her awkwardly with his hips, enough to convey his intentions. Jyn blinked, comprehension dawning quick on her features. She was already working at his pants, her hands far defter than he would ever have anticipated, seeking him out as soon as she was able. Cassian hissed, arching to the touch in spite of the consistent ache in his side. She looked intrigued, then, and perhaps a little smug as she brought them together.

His breath caught. "Not yet," he grit. Jyn stopped, eyeing him warily. "Nothing's wrong," he explained, suppressing a grin with difficulty. "I want you to be ready."

Her mouth twitched; she kissed him again, grasping one hand where it lay idle on her naked hip and maneuvering it elsewhere. "Why don't you make sure of that," she quipped, but trembled all the same while he explored her at leisure. Slowly, she readjusted, giving him room, and with enough time and patience she was shifting into the contact, clutching his shoulder, her body silhouetted by the cloudless sky.

"We're still alive," he murmured, unsure if he was reminding Jyn or himself, running his free hand up her side.

Somewhere far above, a lone X-Wing spiraled out of control, trailing smoke. The ensuing explosion, distant as it was, seemed to bring Jyn back to the present.

"Cassian," she said quietly, her tone wrought by a decisiveness that left him momentarily speechless, "now."

"Are you sure?" he asked, only half-teasing, and maybe it was silly at a time like this, but he _did_ want to know.

He was pulled into another kiss, quicker than the one previous, but no less heated. "I should be asking _you_ that," Jyn grumbled, her cheeks slightly pink, trailing off once he guided himself accordingly.

Cassian smirked, feeling genuine amusement for the first time in a while. "Why, do I look uncomfortable?"

Jyn made a face—like she was going to roll her eyes before deciding she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction—and sank down without another word, gasping at the ease of it. He groaned softly, couldn't help himself. Her eyes fluttered, lips parting soundlessly. She braced herself upon his chest, bit her lip as she settled and in that instant, she seemed much more fragile.

"Jyn," he said hoarsely, recalling the obvious. "Are you okay?" he asked. Jyn nodded, her head bowed as she began to move, stiff and uneasy against him. "Hey," he chided, stopping her progress with his hands, like they still had all the time in the world, "don't hurt yourself."

She scowled at him through the dark curtain of her hair, eyes flashing. "It doesn't _hurt_ —" inhaling raggedly as he pulled her down into a hug, the rest of her response lost in a breathy moan of: _"Cassian,"_ and he realized she was trembling more severely than he was.

"I'm here," he murmured, unsure what else he could say to her. In a little while all of this would become insignificant, but for now….

She squirmed until he released her fully, and grew rougher as time went on, pressing more and more of herself against him 'til it was too much to bear, and he gasped as pain bloomed fresh in his abdomen, grabbing her shoulders and sitting up. Jyn's expression was full of alarm, but he kissed her, pulling her forward by the hips 'til they were flush once more.

"It's all right," he told her gruffly, breath warm upon her skin, "it can't be helped, I'm not very—"

Jyn grabbed his face, kissed him hungrily. "Shut up," she rasped, and his hands spread across her shoulders and back; then, as though guilty, she added: "Please."

The ache of his injuries never faded completely, but it was easier after that, to match her rhythm. They rose and fell together, simple as breathing, a fluctuating unit, not quite in sync but close enough that it hardly mattered. He trailed kisses down her neck and clavicle and breasts, cradling her hips, not really thinking so much as reacting.

Cassian knew he wasn't going to last much longer, gasping sharp into her neck as he forgot momentarily how to breathe, forgot the inevitable, even. He came back to earth, drained, but possessed of just enough sense that his hand might sweep under her thigh.

And Jyn whimpered, her voice high and tense, arching before she gave herself over to it; he held her close.

When their eyes met, hers were noticeably wet, but she was smiling. Cassian's exhale came out uneven.

"Together," he promised, as the rumble became a roar that resonated deep in his bones, threatening to tear him apart. She buried her face in his shoulder, and for the last few moments, he felt strangely peaceful.


End file.
